Before Brothers
by Jukia Wolfcall
Summary: Dameon and Lucivars' interaction before they knew they were brother and a little after they did. Not slash. R
1. Before the party

Disclaimer: I do not own people you recognize. It's that easy. She pulled her hand back and licked away some on the blood that stained her fingers. The coppery blood rolled over her tongue and she closed her eyes in bliss. She wasn't sure why but to her, blood made things a bit more . . . Exciting. She gently traced her fingers around his bloodied jaw line. His face was so hansom. So unearthly. Even with his eyes slightly hooded from pain and exhaustion and the crimson blood that dripped down his mouth, staining his smooth chin. He was beautiful beyond words. He was chained to the whipping pole by his wrists, but forced to stand with his back bent slightly so the lash could run up and down his skin like fire. He stood in the middle of the yard on an elevated wooden platform so every one could watch how those who disobeyed were punished. Now he was standing with his legs were slightly spread so that he could stand with the least amount of pressure on them.  
The whip had been cruel as it raced a cross his unscarred skin leaving red angry welts that had long ceased bleeding. His blood dried in long smears on the platform, leaving a message of its use long after the man was gone from it.  
She wished she could have his love. This amazing man. She wished that she could be the woman who he would serve willingly. Of course that would not happen. He hated her. He hated every damned queen who used him wrong.  
But how dare he hate her! How dare he despise her for what others have done! How dare he refuse her! He was hers! She owned him! He was nothing but a filthy pleasure slave. He was here to serve her! Her! But, no, he wouldn't. He wouldn't yield to her even when his very skin was being whipped away.  
But his cries of pain would keep her satisfied, for now.  
She jerked his head up, her hand squeezing his almost broken jaw. His eye's wrenched open in shock of pain and his breath hissed between his clenched teeth but he wouldn't give her the pleasure of his agony.  
"What?" She crooned gently, pressing his injured jawbone harder, "Surely this hurts. It does, doesn't it?"  
She shrugged and let go but the sickening, twisted; sugar sweet smile was still there.  
"You should feel lucky," The queen, continued, "Even grateful. Many would send a queen killer like you to the salt mines, or have you shaved. Would you just hiss through you teeth if I were to shave you?"  
The elegant man snarled softly, his gold eyes were smoldering with rage, rage so cold it could scald all those it touched.  
"Is that all the answer I'll get from you?"  
His voice was gentle enough to make her scream, "It may be all you ever get from me." She ran her thumb over his lower lip and whispered, "I doubt that, Sadi, I truly do."  
  
Lashes rained down until all that he could cling to was the blessed breaths between strokes. His back, legs and sides were on fire. It was all he could do to keep the scream in his throat. Biting his lip until the blood dripped down his jaw to save his dignity, his breath whistled through clenched teeth. * * *  
Lucivar Yaslana, Half-Breed Warlord prince of Ebon Rih, stood on the edge of the huge canyon rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, about to jump.  
There was no reason to be nervous. None at all.  
He had wanted to wait. Wanted to say good-bye to his friend. The only one he had.  
But they had pushed him too far. It wasn't right. Well, it never was.  
They had a party. The queens, where Lucivar had been hoping to say his final good byes. Daemon would have been there. But, Hell's fire, it was too late now.  
He couldn't do this! He couldn't live in a court where all they taught males was how to lick and screw. So that's why he stood, ready to die.  
Maybe, just maybe, Daemon was willing to wait for Witch. Well he'd waited. And waited. But all it was was a dream. A dream of something long lost. Of some thing so far gone that no one even knew.  
They talked of Witch in legends. A queen whose blood sang to blood. A queen who knew what it meant to be blood.  
He laughed bitterly, a harsh sound that echoed through the run below him.  
All it took was the courage to jump. He didn't need any strength for the rest of it.  
He closed his wings tightly for a moment, then opened them again. Ready to jump. Ready to-  
**Prick!** Came a wheezing cry **Prick!**  
Lucivar spun around before he realized it was on the spear thread.  
**Bastard?** Confusion and annoyance laced his voice  
He heard a low hiss of pain and nearly felt his friend shudder in surrender.  
After several moments a soft croon entered his head.  
**See you tonight.**  
Shivering, Lucivar Yaslana, Half-Breed Warlord prince of Ebon Rih, stepped back from the edge of the canyon and back from death.  
  
Daemon Sadi was finally alone.  
All day his queens' healers had struggled to make him 'fit for viewing'. The whip marks had been carefully concealed and the blood had been washed off.  
Now he was finally alone, with only the time to get dressed before he would be back out side with witches mewling over him once more.  
'Dress to the occasion, Prince Sadi,' she had told him.  
He leisurely waved his arm, calling in his 'effects'.  
If it was a whore she wanted it was a whore she would get.  
  
Lucivar surveyed the crowds of females that seemed to be swarming around him.  
~At least they don't brush up against me any more~ He thought. The first witch to 'accidentally' brush her hand on his inner thigh didn't have use of that hand any more.  
Then another sight caught his eye.  
Daemon Sadi.  
He was slowly making his way down an extravagant staircase in plane view of the entire room.  
His arm was wrapped around the lithe, thin form of a witch. Her clothes were rather torn and her body thin to the point of unhealthiness. Her black hair and gold eyes stood out from the other witches.  
Daemon saw Lucivar and started toward him quickly.  
"Tresa." Lucivar greeted formally and lightly kissed her hand, then looked at Daemon. "Friend."  
Tresa fidgeted. She squirmed and mouthed words silently to the ground.  
"Uh, Daemon?" She asked meekly.  
He smiled at her, "What is it?"  
Tresa looked nervous. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. She tried again. She looked ready to faint.  
She shifted her gaze to Lucivar. "Eyrien?"  
"What?" He asked softly.  
More silent words.  
"Would you like some wine?" Offered Daemon.  
Tresa swallowed hard and nodded.  
Daemon gave her a worried glace but took Lucivars arm and wandered to the punch table.  
"You look nice today." Lucivar said, turning his snicker into a hacking cough.  
They both took some wine. Daemon scanned the people for Tresa but couldn't see her.  
Daemon looked back to Lucivar, his lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "I'm sure."  
Lucivar paused to sip his wine and watched Daemon do the same.  
"This shit tastes like horse piss." Daemon commented mildly.  
Lucivar took another sip and let it roll over his tongue and considered carefully, "Really? I think they've had worse." 


	2. Tell us a story, Weaver

Disclaimer: I do not own people you recognize. It's that easy. A/N: I changed just a tad of the dialogue. EEP! *Ducks from flying shoe* Don't kill me.  
  
"Tell us a story, Weaver!" The crowd shouted at the thin woman. "Tell us!"  
She stood, shivering with effort to speak, fighting. "She has come." Were the breathy words that finally came.  
Daemon sat up quickly from his slouch in a chair.  
Lucivar, from his corner near his queen, saw his friend straighten and did the same.  
Daemon stood up almost instantly but stayed where he was, not letting himself hope.  
"Stupid bitch!" Shouts someone. "Tell me who I'll love tonight!"  
Tresa turned to the voice. "What does it matter?" She countered. "She is coming. The Realm of Terrielle will be torn apart by it's own foolish greed. Those who survive will serve, but few will survive."  
Daemon moved to her. "Tresa," He murmured softly in her ear as he brushed tears from her cheek.  
"The blood in Terrielle whore the old ways and make a mockery of everything we are." Tresa waved her hand to the queens. "They twist things to suit themselves. They dress up and pretend. They ware Blood jewels but don't know what it means to be Blood. They talk of honoring the darkness but it's all a lie. They honor nothing but their own ambitions. The day is coming when the debt will be called in, the blood will answer for what they have become."  
Daemon closed his eyes. ~She's coming. Sweet darkness, she's coming. ~ He thought silently. "They are the Blood, Tresa." He said softly. "Who else is there to call in the debt? Bastard slaves like me?"  
She heaved a deep sigh. And shuddered as she slipped that much closer to the twisted kingdom. "The darkness has had a prince for a long, long time. Now the queen is coming. It may take decades or even centuries, but she is coming." She paused and dug her nails into his skin with effort. "They will be dust by then, but you and the Eyrien will be there to serve"  
Daemons eyes flickered. "What queen? Who is coming?"  
"Living myth" She whispered in the deathly quite. "Dreams made flesh."  
Daemons eyes shifted to a hungry molten gold. "Are you sure?" He shook her arms a bit. "Tresa, are you sure?"  
She laughed softly and with an edge of madness on her tongue. "I saw her in the tangled web, Daemon. I saw her."  
She paused. "The Eyrien."  
Daemon looked and saw Lucivar staring intensely at them. "What about him."  
"He's your brother. You are your fathers sons."  
She released her nails from his skin and fell backwards, laughing loudly.  
Daemon stood up and brushed himself off, completely aware that the mask of feelings had come down on his face. He carefully flicked his wrist, just the slightest bit, and destroyed Tresa's web.  
He straightened his cuffs and walked slowly back to where Lucivar was standing.  
"What did she say." Lucivar hissed as Daemon reached his side.  
Daemon was in too much shock to stay anything.  
"Damn it, Daemon! What did she say?"  
Daemon's face quirked an ironic half-smile. "I suppose no secrets between family."  
Lucivar grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Your drunk!"  
"No. No." Daemon sighed. "I wish I was."  
Lucivars tone took a steely edge. "What in the name of hell did she say that shook you so badly, Daemon. Friend."  
"Ah yes. Daemon. Friend." He said sing-songidly. "Daemon, friend, brother. Brother, friend, Daemon. Ha ha. That's funny."  
Lucivar's face took on an expression of disgust. "You really are drunk."  
"Oh. No. I'm not." He said wistfully. "I'm not drunk at all."  
His legs were wobbling under him and he would have traded almost anything for the room to stop spinning. "Oh Lucivar."  
He leaned on his newly acquired brother and buried his face on his neck. "Lucivar, Lucivar, Lucivar."   
Lucivar held Daemon, in confusion. His hands stroked his soft black hair.  
Tears trickled down Daemons face, no matter how hard he tried to stop them. "She's coming. Sweet darkness, Lucivar, She's coming." He held him in a tight embrace.  
Lucivar tensed, not daring to hope.  
"That's not all she said, is it?"  
"No." Daemon said a bit hysterically. "Apparently you're my brother."  
This time he felt the air leave Lucivars lungs. ~Good for him.~ He thought, happy that now at least his brother was equally unsteady as he was. "Mother night. Mother night, mother night, mother night." Lucivar mumbled incoherently. "Yeah. About what I thought." 


End file.
